2014.04.14 - A Night With Jimmy
Jimmy Olsen is relaxing at home on a Friday night, dateless after a session of phone tag leads to some raised voices and a silent Twitter feed. Ah, well. He sips at a beer while he taps his Playtendo controller, considering each move before he makes it. And then there's a tap-tap-tap at his window. Knocks against windows aren't that uncommon in the upper floors- there are birds who unfortunately meet their end against the shiny or transparent surfaces (depending on the sun), but this is too regular a kocking for it to be that. It is, in fact, a spandex-clad cat floating outside the window, leaning back as if on a chair, arms behind his back and waving with the hand he had just knocked. Jimmy Olsen looks up, blinks, and then laughs. He finds his phone/remote, and keys the window to open. Normally they don't do that, but he has connections and with his circle of friends it helps to have a window that can be a second door. "Keith, dude, it's been awhile. What's up?" he says, as he pauses the game and gets to his feet. He's in a soft blue undershirt, sporting the famous 'S' shield of course, and long pajama bottoms. And barefoot, too. Keith reaches over to grab the window-sill once the pane slides back and propels himself inside, landing softly on his feet- which are bare coincidentally, the rare ocurrence probably explained by a set of mostly-destroyed boots hanging from a belt loop. "Jimmy, it's so good to see you! After a while I figured you had been sent on assignment again. I decided to come by and check on a whim." He grins. "Kahndaq," the youth explains, shaking his head, "Spend half my time dodging giant scorpio... dude, your boots?" he says, looking at the destroyed footwear. "What the heck?" "Acid-spewing mutant bank robber. I managed to jump out of the way but he got the boots, so I had to take them off quick before the acid got through. These were Edna Mode designs, too. I wonder if she'll try to stuff me down the incinerator if I show up asking for a repair." He chuckles. "Kahndaq, eh? Glad you're back safe and sound." He steps forward and gives Jimmy a tight hug, patting his back. "You missed hell and back, you know. Supes lost his powers, then got them back, then Tony Stark died, then came back. Thor and Sif died... they haven't come back." Jimmy Olsen ooofs and then returns the young hero's hug, patting his back as well in return. "I wasn't cut off; I heard. It was pretty rough," he sighs, holding the solid young man tightly before letting him go. "Perks of being in the information business," he says. "You want a beer?" he gestures to the fridge. "I think I have some boots around here; we're about the same size." Stepping back from the hug, the Cheshire smiles, "Sure, why not? I never say no to a beer. It's ok though, you don't need to give me boots... I've got pads, they'll be enough until I get home tonight and switch to sneakers. I liked the boots, though... now I'm going to have to find color-coded sneakers." Jimmy Olsen crosses to the kitchen are, opening the fridge to look and see what he has - mostly local stuff - and point it out to his bud. "I'm almost afraid to ask. Why color-coded?" he says with a bemused look. "Well, branding is important!" Keith grins, reaching for one of the beers, and then points to his tights and the blue/red pattern. "I don't know if it's just me, but if I see a hero wearing something that is totally out of their costume's scheme, it sort of ruins the effect for me. I wan't just wear white sneakers with this getup, you know..." He reaches over and unbuttons his band jacket and slides out of it, folding it over his arm. "I need to find a summer variant, too. Weather's starting to get too hot to wear a full outfit with all this fur." "Hey, you could always go for the Tigra look and just use a pair of swimtrunks or something," Jimmy jokes. "Yeah, I can see that. It was 120 in the shade in Kahndaq; I have some desert wear maybe you could adapt. I won't need it for awhile." Keith gives Jimmy The Look as he opens his beer and sits down on the couch. "Jimmy... Tigra walking around in a bikini is perfectly acceptable because she's a woman and men are pigs. If -I- were to run around in a speedo and a vest, I would be laughed so hard out of town I'd probably end up heroing somewhere south of the Mississippi Delta!" Jimmy Olsen snorts. "Robin got away with it for years," he says. "And Sub-Mariner? Still rocking that look." He tries to keep the smile from his lips as he teases his buddy, reeling off a couple more improbable costume choice. "You could always go for that retro-disco look. Popped collars, anyone?" "I am not interested in re-living the Dazzer Age of Shame, Jimmy." The cat laughs. "And the Sub-Mariner? Sure, but that guy's -ripped-, geez!" The purple cat shakes his head. "So's Aquaman. Must be the water." Jimmy Olsen snickers. "Maybe. Hey, you could go for a hipster loo, with like a big Dr. Who scarf or something?" he grins. "Jeez, no..." he chuckles as he takes back up his beer and sips it. "So what have you been up to while I've been counting sand grains?" Jimmy says as he reclaims his place on the couch. Taking advantage of Jimmy's presence in the couch, he leans against him and exhales, relaxing. "Well, just your usual getting beat up. I'm an Avenger now... and in the Justice League, but I'm not sure I deserve to be there... catch my drift?" Jimmy Olsen shifts, offering his shoulder to his buddy. "Dude, that is awesome. And believe me, I know what you're going through. I guess... the only thing I could say is that they're not idiots, and that they would not have asked you unless you were worthy. Ultra Boy told me that, once, and it's really stuck with me." He takes a long pull from his beer. "So.. relax. You're in good company." "Too good a company, really. I'm woefully inexperienced, which why I've considered leaving the League for their Young Justice group and get some experience first..." He sips the beer and then rests his head on the shoulder, yawning. "I'm actually surprised I'm awake. I've been on a three-day patrol so far. Was trying to find the aforementioned acid-spitter before he happened to someone. So, why are you in your jammies at this time of day?" "Well, if you need to crash, couch is yours," JImmy says. "And I am exercising executive privledge and getting comfortable after getting torpeadoed for my date tonight. Wasn't going to work out, apparently. Tell me things are better on your front?" "Geez, Jimmy, what on earth are you telling these girls?" Keith chuckles and shakes his head a little. "I can't complain, I've got my pick of the guys. Apparently some people don't find me as monstrous as I find myself- even though Lia Briggs refused to sign me onto her modeling firm unless it were for 'art shoots'- you know that weird Yoko Ono crap. So... what exactly was her excuse?" Jimmy Olsen lays his head on the back of the couch. "How about, 'sorry, I have to take this really important phone call and we /might/ be five minutes later for dinner than I thought' That's not so terrible, is it?" He shakes his head, looking at the ceiling. "Oh and good to hear that you have, like, dudes throwing themselves at you." He closes his eyes. "And you are so not monstrous. Really." Keith frowns and looks over at Jimmy. "She's dumb. Hey... cheer up, if I were a girl I wouldn't stand you up." He reaches over with his beer-less hand and ruffles Jimmy's hair. "C'mon, you're a really cute guy and a sweet one to boot. If she can't see that, she's frickin' stupid." Jimmy Olsen has to smile at the ruffling, though his eyes are still closed. "Hey, we just got off on the wrong foot. But, man, that seems to happen a lot.." he sighs. "Thank you," he says after a pause. Ears twitch at the sigh and the frown increases. He shifts around on the couch until he can give Jimmy a hug, putting his arms around his chest so as not to conk him over the head with the bottle. "I'm sorry... I-I wish I could help, but I've got no dating advice for women at all... I'm exclusively wired to hit on guys, and guys sort of tend to be a little bit more frank about stuff. Or maybe it's just that we're blunt." Jimmy Olsen smiles, and returns the ruffle, scratching Keith between his kitty-ears, then ruffling one perked-up ear. "Hey, it's cool, bro. I just need to keep looking. I guess you have an advantage, there." He can't help purr, half-closing his eyes at the scratch. He shudders a little, and then says, "What do you mean, an advantage?" Jimmy Olsen quirks a smile at the purring, but he doesn't stop. "Well, getting to be all blunt and stuff. Guys just say what they mean and mean what they say. Most of the time," he says. "That's true, I guess." Keith says, his words slurring a little as he leans into the scratching. "Girls are mysterrrrious to me. They'd probably die to just snuggle you like this, but half of the time they'll give you the contrary impression..." his eyes close a little more. "... I hope none of the enemies I fight decides to try this out or my career is over!" he jokes, his head resting on Jimmy's chest as he continues to get scratched. "...it's the weirdest feeling in the world, honest. It's like my spine is wired to my ears and when you...ahh... yeah.... liiike that." Jimmy Olsen chuckles a little, brings his other hand up and scratches behind the other ear, cradling the young hero's head on his chest. "Yeah, I'd say you got more than a little 'cat' in you when you got your powers," he says. "I should see if you always land on your feet." Scritch scritch scritch. Keith is now completely relaxed, arms around Jimmy's waist so as not to fall over. "I dooo..." he slurs a little, nuzzling Jimmy's chest. "... I'm.. a good deal cat. No smell, though... damaged my nose in the fire. I probably can only smell... mmmm.... about as well as a human can." Jimmy Olsen looks down at Keith, his fingers continuing to work at the cat-boy hero's ears. "'s too bad," he says quietly. "You're still gifted in some many other ways, though. Justice League material, remember?" "Mmmnot really, not yet. But this is why you're sweet." Keith gives the young reporter a squeeze around the waist as he purrrs. "Gingers are my favorites, too. I used to be one ... mmm... did I ever tell you? It's hard to remember..." Scritch scritch. "Yes yet," the young reporter says, "Obviously. They wouldn't have asked you otherwise." He gives a quiet laugh, his cheeks coloring - easily visible because of his own coloring. "You did. It's cool, you relax," he says softly, realizing just how tired his buddy really is. Oh well, looks like he's on the couch for the night - he's slept in a lot worse positions of course. Scritch scritch. "What about you?" Keith mutters drowsily, unclasping his hands from Jimmy's waist to reach out and scritch the back of the redhead's hair. He's not a cat, but it's a gesture. "Can't sleep sittin' down. You'll get spikles in your genechte-gezeunk." He smirks, eyes closed. A Linda Richman reference while half-conscious? That's one bizarre subconscious. Scritch. "Of course I can," Jimmy says. "I've slept like this a lot of night. I fall asleep doing research all the time." He smiles at the scritch on his hair and neck, and returns the gentle gesture to his buddy. "You get some sleep, bud, you deserve it..." "Yeah, yer not doin' research now." Keith answers, and tugs a little at Jimmy. "C'mon, lay down. If you insist I'm at least not gonna worry I'm giving you scoliosis or something." He yawns, and shudders. Three days of constantly going at it had caught up to him the moment he hit the couch. He should have known better. "Sorry to be such a poop guest..." Jimmy Olsen conceeds and shifts onto the large and deep couch, setting his head on the plush arm. He scrtiches Keith's left ear some more. "Hey, no way.. yawn... are you that.." he mutters, still not recovered from the trip and the jet lag. He closes his eyes, mutters, and rubs his thumb over the contour of the young man's pointy ear. Settling down on Jimmy's chest, he wraps his arms around him and gives another almost-disloated-my-jaw yawn, before settling back to purring. "I'll take you out to breakfast. To make up for this..." he says, eyes beginning to close again. He shifts his head and nuzzles his cheek. "I'm glad yer back, by the way. I hate sand. It gets everywhere..." he says, trying not to laugh at the horrible quote. Jimmy Olsen mmms and nuzzles back, sighing. "Tell me.. about it.." he mutters, then he's out like a light, drifing off to a deep sleep, hand cradling his buddy's head and neck. Keith follows not too long after. He snores. Like a buzzsaw. Thank goodness Jimmy is tired! ----- Morning ----- Jimmy Olsen wakes up some hours later, sunlight kept muted by the shades. He blinks muzzily, feeling the warmth against him. Hey, she must have.. oh, wait, it's Keith. Jimmy keeps his breathing slow and regular, so as not to wake him yet, and he watches the young hero sleep for a bit. He's a good friend, indeed, and he's happy for the guy, getting into two of the most prestigious teams in the world. Even when exhausted, it's not likely for Keith to take in all of his missing hours in one go. He was a cat, and cats had short sleep cycles. That he slept this much was a testament to how tired he really was. Eventually he finds himself skirting the edge between sleep and wakefulness, and becomes aware of a body against him. True to nature, he yawns a little and cuddles up, arms and legs wrapped tightly around the other body as he tries to go back to sleep again, but his cycles just won't let him. "MMsmrnrsrmornin'?" he asks, drowsily. You have joined event "Performance on Broadway." Jimmy Olsen flashes a smile as Keith reacts, the young man cuddling close to him. He slides a hand over Keith's shoulder and pats him there. "Bud, hey, it's time to get up.." he says quietly. He reaches up to rub one of Keith's ears between finger and thumb, gently urging him awake. The ear twitches and the cat reacts almost instantly, tensing up and then relaxing. A yellow-green eye opens up, getting a view of Jimmy's chest, a partial view of the 'S'. "Oh god... I totally fell asleep didn't I?" he asks drowsily, nuzzling his friend's chest and trying to stifle a yawn. The yawn is winning. He rubs the back of Jimmy's shoulders with his palms- the yawn eventually coming out in a strangled "mmmwwwwhhhaaaaa" Jimmy Olsen chuckles. "You did, but you totally needed it. So did I," he sighs, rubbing the young hero's back even as his own is rubbed. "Come on, bud, you want me to fix some breakfast?" "But I'm so comfy..." he mumbles. "You make a great pillow." A smirk, and then he nuzzles Jimmy's cheek. "I'm sore as all get-out, three days of not sleeping and running around does that. Are you sore? Did you sleep in a bad position?" He asks a little guiltily. Two to a couch could end up with someone twisted into a pretzel. Jimmy Olsen shakes his head. "No, I'm cool," he says. "Not a bad position at all." He closes his eyes at the cheek nuzzle, rubbing his buddy's ear again. "You might just need to move around a bit. If that doesn't help, beleive me, I have a very full medicine cabinet. Um, I guess though that any sort of rub isn't going to work for you, though. With the fur and all." Keith laughs at that, and repeats the cheek nuzzle, seeing that Jimmy seems to like it. "Yeah... it'd be sticky and gooey and... yyyeah. One of the many bad things about having fur is that my showers take forever. The drying-up part, that is. And wet fur weighs you down like you've got noooo idea." Jimmy Olsen eyebrow-flashes. "Actually, I do have a fair idea, yeah. I was a werewolf for awhile. Lots of tangles. Burrs. All sorts of stuff." He shivers a little against the young man, running fingers through the soft fur of his neck. "Blow drier. That's the ticket, by the way." He purrrs- the fur really is soft, it's obvious he takes good care of it. It's not overly long, but well-groomed. "You were a werewolf? Geez Jimmy, you have the best misadventures," Keith chuckles and nuzzles Jimmy's cheek until he comes to the ear. Since Jimmy was stroking his ears earlier, he decides to reciprocate and nuzzles it too. "I kill at least one blow drier every time I shower, honest to god." Jimmy Olsen's breath catches in his throat. "Yeah. Werewolf. And it.. kinda keeps happening but I guess that goes with the territory, you know?" He smiles, rubs Keith's ear some more. "Too bad. That must get pretty expensive." He quirks a smile, but refrains from the obvious joke. The cat continues to nuzzle Jimmy's ear, "How on earth did you turn into a werewolf? And yeah... thank goodness for that Avengers paycheck, right?" The cat's purr resounds in his throat, his own hands stroke the back of Jimmy's hair by reflex. Dear heavens, he needed to make a note never to stay up that much again. "Got bit by one, the classic way," Jimmy says, ruffling Keith's ears again. He licks his lips, closing his eyes at the stroking. "Thankfully, Superman cured me." "Not cured entirely, you still like getting stroked," he jokes, letting his fingers massage Jimmy's hair while he gives him a playful lick across the ear. "How do you cure lycanthropy, by the way? It might come in handy, knowing that." Jimmy Olsen laughs at the lick. "Maybe!" he grins, and then he blushes a bit. Ok, more than a bit, due to his coloring. "Well, it was really a magic thing, and so.. um, it took the kiss of a pretty girl to break the curse." He quirks a smile. "I never knew who Superman convinced to kiss me; I was pretty hideous at the time." "Heh, you're adorable when you blush. So a kiss... that's very standard magic, whomever cursed you must not have gotten past Hex 101." He rests his head on Jimmy's chest, stretching his legs a little. "And I dunno, you'd make a cute werewolf. Red fur and all," he teases. Jimmy Olsen cradles his buddy's head to his chest, stroking him gently. "No, I wasn't cute at all. There are picture," he admits. "And I was more gry, like a real wolf. It was.. weird. I don't really remember too much of it. But at least I didn't hurt anyone." Keith sighs a little, relaxing again. He lets his hands idly stroke Jimmy's neck and hair. "I should follow you around, I think. You've got the craziest of adventures, I'd like to come along for the ride sometime. That bottle city sounded trippy." "It is. You could watch me be a superhero there, too," Jimmy grins. "Might be a while, but I could certainly try to arrange it. Usually when something like that happens, though, there's just no warning." "Superhero? Wait, you've got powers?" The cat asks, leaning forward and touching his nose to Jimmy's to give him a dead-on eye-to-eye stare. "Get outta here!" he grins. Jimmy Olsen swallows at the nose touch, staring back into Keith's eyes. "Huh? No, oh no, not right now. But there, I'm kinda like, um, Robin. Superman doesn't have any powers there, and so when he needed to solve a crime he took a Batman-like ID; he was the first Nightwing. And I was his Robin, Flamebird. So I had, like, a jet belt and that was it." Keith blinks a few times. "You had a jet belt? Did you bring it back with you?" he asks, nose-to-nose. "Oh -please- tell me you brought it back!" Jimmy Olsen does a very gentle shake of the head. "Nope, not even the costume. Stuff like that can't leave Kandor. Doesn't work that way, unfortunately for them." "Aww, I wanted to zoom around on a jet belt. I've -always- wanted to fly. Floating is ok... but flying, man? To be just like Superman?" The cat smirks, getting a dreamy look on his face. "That'd be awesome." Jimmy Olsen blushes a bit. "It is kinda the coolest thing I've ever done," he says quietly. "It really does change you, in a way." Keith notices the blush, and blinks himself out of the reverie. Noses touching, he smirks a little, looking into Jimmy's eyes. "Funny..." he remarks quietly, "You've got blue eyes... I had green. I miss my old hair." The smirk turns a little faded. "I miss being normal, truth be told. Sometimes." Jimmy Olsen reaches to run his hand over the back of the young man's head. "You're still handsome," he says plainly. "You still look damn good, buddy." he says. "I can always ask around, see if there is.. something for you. If you want me to." "I dunno. Since I was killed and then reborn into this body, I don't think you can 'fix' me. This is my true nature by birth from not on." He purrrs softly at the hand. "You're sweet to offer, though," he says, and kisses Jimmy's chin. "I fear that attempting to reverse it would kill me for good, though>' Jimmy Olsen blushes just slighty with the kiss. "Yeah, I remember, but.. you never know. There's so many strange things in the world, that... well, you never know." He strokes his friend's head, and neck. An eyebrow raises. "Jimmy? You're blushing." The cat teases, leaning into the stroking lightly. "...it's rather adorable." "Not everyday I get kissed by a handsome catboy superhero," he smiles. "I mean, even for me that's kinda unusual," he chuckles, reaching to stroke the young man's ears again. His ears twitch for a moment, and then the inside of them turn bright red. Yeah, he's blushing. "Keep that up, Jetbelt boy, and I'll kiss you for real. 'sides, you're definitely more handsome than me." "'Flamebird'," Jimmy says. "Really? We're going to go there? Argue about who is cuter?" he smiles. "Maybe I'll kiss you. Wouldn't be my first time," he says, teasing back. "Whoa... wait... you've kissed boys before?" The cat chuckles. "I don't believe you! Who was it? Tell!" He taptaps Jimmy's nose with his own, looking incredulous. "Tell or it didn't happen!" "Maybe it did, maybe it didn't..." Jimmy says with a slight smile, gently teasing his buddy. "Besides, with all the time travel and such... who can say what still happened, or whatever..." "Oh, it's like -that- isn't it?" Keith smirks and leans in "I challenge you to a bout of Gay Chicken!" Jimmy Olsen snorts. "Rules?" "Just like the game of chicken, but with lips instead of cars. First person to turn away buys breakfast!" Keith nods. "With extra bacon." Jimmy Olsen quirks a smile. "You're on," he says. Leaning back on the couch, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Oh, cocky, are you?" A cheshire grin. Hey, it's his best feature, or so he thinks. Then he puts his hands against the couch for leverage, and he starts approaching Jimmy, closing the smile. Of course, he finds it a little funny, and his lip purses a little on the ridiculous side, just because he can't help himself. Jimmy Olsen is stoic, his blue gaze level and steady as Keith approaches him, his lips parting gently, as if anticipating, a cute little swallow... closer.. and he actually leans up, and then... just at that last second he turns aside. A laugh, and a playful swat at Jimmy's chest. "I hope you've got deep pockets, Mister Olsen! I haven't eaten in three days!" The chesire laughs again and drops down on Jimmy's chest. "Kiss a boy, pfff. Please, you're straighter than a laser. That'd be like me kissing a girl." Jimmy Olsen can't help himself, he's laughing so hard he's crying. Finally he wipes his eyes and nods. "Yep, straighter than a laser. That's why I'm rubbing my buddy's ears and laying against him on a couch in my pajamas..." He levers himself up to a sitting position and finally he stands, breaking their prolonged contact. "I need to shower and shave and brush my teeth.. and by then you'll be ready to empty a Tim Horton's, so..." "That doesn't count, everybody cuddles cats. Oh yeah, I totally need a shave, too..." he says, stroking his chin and turning his head this way and that. "What do you think? Should I go for a soul patch?" The cat chuckles and leans back on the couch. "Go ahead with your morning ablutions... but don't take too long, or I swear I am not responsible for devouring this couch." Jimmy Olsen tosses a small pillow at Keith, then disappears into the bathroom for a time. He emerges clean, polished, gently scented and ravenously hungry. "OK, where to?" he says, smoothing his t-shirt. "Anywhere you don't mind being seen with someone in spandex and who will probably eat like a beast. C'mon..." Keith gets to his feet and puts on his jacket. "Onwards to food!" Category:Log